B.A. in English from a mediocre state university. Picture me as that kid who sat in the front row of every class, talked too much, and said too little. Due to poor social skills and unresolved sexual issues, I was unable to fully apply myself to my studies, and graduated with a respectable, if mediocre G.P.A. I belonged to no fraternity, and rarely, if ever, participated in extracurricular activities. My evenings were spent in the library, or in my dorm room, obsessively reading Death in Venice by Thomas Mann (see unresolved sexual issues) or A Shropshire Lad by A.E. Houseman (see more unresolved sexual issues). I was almost always a complete prick to girls who tried to be nice to me. I had trouble making friends with other men. I had trouble finding mentors among the faculty. Even so, I went to graduate school for 2 years before dropping out. Eventually I came to consider myself a left-wing political activist (mostly to meet girls) and a Marxist (I tried to read Capital once but got bored and quit). I skipped my university’s commencement ceremonies to spite my parents.

2012-Present:

For the price of a free refill on my Starbucks Gold Card I sit all day in front of a 8-year-old netbook and write fiction, political, literary, and film criticism.

2011-2012:

I collected unemployment while I participated in Occupy Wall Street and pretended to look for a job. I shook my fist and shouted out curses at bankers and stock brokers, went on marches, and got arrested twice, once on the Brooklyn Bridge and once while pretending to be a photojournalist.

2004-2011:

I worked at a low-paying, low-status job where I listened to audiobooks, and pretended I was working. I left because the company was mismanaged and went out of business.

2002-2004:

I lived in a cheap flophouse in the University District in Seattle on savings I made gutting fish in the Alaska in the Summer. I sat in coffee shops and wrote novels nobody will ever read.

1997-2001:

I worked as a Unix Systems Administrator for a variety of small ISPs and pump and dump stock scams pretending to be startup tech companies. I read other people’s e-mail when I was bored.

1994-1997:

I lived in a cheap flophouse in the University District in Seattle on savings I made gutting fish in Alaska in the Summer. I sat in coffee shops and wrote poetry and short stories nobody will ever read. I spent a lot of time being angry that unsigned musicians got more sex than unpublished poets.

1990-1994:

Yeah. My resume goes this far back. I’m fucking old. You’re not supposed to hold it against me, but you probably should. I’m unmarried, angry, bitter, and have a spotty employment history. Do you really think I’m going to change at my age? No. I will pretend to work in order to collect the paycheck every Friday. I’ll hit on any unmarried (and married) woman who makes the mistake to be nice to me. I’ll say nasty things about my supervisor on the Internet. I’ll take as many sick days as you give me, and I’ll come to work late as much as I can get away with. Oh right. What did I do? I worked as a low level editorial assistant for a publishing company you’ve never heard of. I never progressed past an entry-level job because I couldn’t spell.

References Available On Request:

I haven’t got any. I’m hoping you don’t check. I may write down a few friends who agree to fake being my ex-boss.

I’m curious as to why the last photo at the Met is your favorite? Is it because the man viewing the statue has a thoughtful gaze as he admires the brilliance of the sculpture? Or, is it because he appears to be quite a different form from the statue’s perfection of the male body? I’d hate to think you were viewing him and judging from your camera’s distance. Note his cane. Surely there is a story there.

I’m also curious as to why you took this shot at an ‘off’ angle, but then again, it is creative and your own artistic choice. I like that.

You know, for a man who calls himself a failed writer, you are doing ok. 300 hits per day? That would be heaven on a Word Press Blog. You’ve been ‘Freshly Pressed’ now–time to find some thoughtful topics to share your insights. I like your writing style so far, but I think the ‘failure’ theme is no longer true. Best of luck to you and to the others writing on this blog.

Thanks. I wrote that piece to get my deepest feelings of humiliation down in writing. I guess, as it turns out, when you put into words the pain and disappointment many other people are feeling, they respond.

Perhaps I am strange, but I find nobility in that sort of toil quiet suffering of the artist. My favorite artist of all time was Vincent Van Gogh, his paintings convey the pain, loneliness and the suffering he was in. I felt the pain in every stroke and I strongly identify with people who’ve suffered for their art, and by suffer, I mean not finding the success that comes with hard work. In your case, it was thousands of hours of writing, millions of words written, perhaps many more hours spent researching and reading (to hone your writing)…so, I get it.

It is somehow brilliant that your “resumé” goes backwards in time and forwards in terms of your development (or mentality?). Read Joyce’s “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.” I bet you will relate.

You remind me of Ming dynasty scholar Yuan Liao Fan, who was also very irritated with his fate and unresolved issues. However, he later met a Zen Master who enlightened him on how to accumulate merits in a concentrated way to alter the circumstances of his life.

In Buddhism, if you do a good deed here and then, you will see the reward in the next life. If you do a blitz of good deeds (say 3000 good deeds) while cultivating virtue, then the merit will be so great that blessings (sort of like an advance) will manifest in this life.